


espresso macchiato

by poisongardens



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I couldn't help myself, I know, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6461980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisongardens/pseuds/poisongardens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always raining in Covent Garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. cappuccino

It’s always raining in Covent Garden. A pity; it’s so pretty in the sunshine. Bard must have some distant memory of it because that’s the way he sees it in his mind: sun-soaked squares, narrow streets the bright light rarely reaches, long shadows across the cobblestone.

Hurrying back through the rain after his lunch break a sign catches his eye. It hangs outside a shop right in the outskirts of Covent Garden and he’s almost completely sure he hasn’t seen it before. One of those metallic ones on hinges. It makes him smile. Must be a coffee shop, or something. He writes the name down on a piece of paper when he gets back to his office, puts it on the pin board.

 

*

 

“I still don’t get it, though. Couldn’t you keep the… this… _thing,_ whatever it is you got going on here – but get a bigger place? It’s…” Haldir gestures vaguely at the café interior as if that’s descriptive enough.

“Yes, thank you, very good advice.”

“It’s just so cramped, you know?”

"Yeah, well."

"It's not even trendy."

“Sorry, can’t hear you,” Thranduil shouts as he starts the coffee grinder.

Haldir stays quiet even when the harsh sound dies out. Thranduil can just see the way he eyes his narrow surroundings, though.

“Espresso?” he asks as he emerges from behind the big machine on the counter top.

Haldir sighs. “No, I have to get back to work.”

“Thank god.”

“Love you, too, babe.”

Haldir reaches across the counter to give him a kiss on the cheek. Thranduil downs the espresso in one gulp as Haldir nearly collides with someone on his way out.

“Oh, after you,” he tells the customer heading inside.

“Thank you,” said costumer answers, nods at Haldir, steps inside.

He looks around himself where he stands, at the piles of books in the corners, the shelves covering most of the walls – some filled with books and some with other crap, the old lamp shades hanging over tightly positioned seating arrangements. He peers into the small room up the short staircase where he would be seeing more of the timeworn furniture, more books. Then he turns to Thranduil and smiles.

“Hi,” he says, heading over.

“Hello,” Thranduil answers, putting his empty cup away as the man screens the menu on the wall behind him.

“Can I get a cappuccino?” he says then.

“Of course. Take a seat, if you like.”

“Oh. I will. Thank you.”

Thranduil finds himself searching for something else to say but the situation doesn’t seem to call for it. So he just makes the coffee. He puts two biscotti on the saucer, tucks the strand of hair that keeps falling out of its bun behind his ear and brings the order over to the only window-adjacent table he has to offer.

What does he normally say to customers? How does he talk to people on days when he’s feeling a little happier about life than usual, like bonding briefly with a stranger wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world?

“Here you go, enjoy,” he says, feeling weird.

“Thank you very much.”

He smiles and Thranduil smiles back, then goes to check the back room even though he just did twenty minutes ago and there haven’t been any other customers in since then, before retreating behind the counter, making himself another espresso just so he’ll have something to do with his hands. He sips on it, glancing carefully at the man by the window. He picks up a biscuit, dips it in the cappuccino foam and bites off half of it. Thranduil picks up a biscuit of his own from the jar and soaks it in black espresso before eating it. About four biscotti later, the customer gets up, puts his jacket on and brings the cup and saucer over to the counter.

“Great coffee,” he says, searching through his wallet.

“Thank you. I’m glad.”

He hands Thranduil five pounds, tells him to keep the change. Thranduil thanks him again. Who tips two pounds for a cappuccino?

“You’re welcome,” he says. He pauses. Then, “Green Beans. That’s a funny name.”

“Oh,” Thranduil laughs. “That’s… Yeah. You know, it’s all ecological, and all that, thought it’d be good advertising.”

“Excellent coffee humour, too.”

“I think so.”

“Mmh. I’m… Bard, by the way.” He extends his hand.

“Thranduil Greenleaf,” Thranduil says, taking it.

“Thranduil Greenleaf of Green Beans?”

“That is correct,” he says, smiling.

Bard smiles back. “Well, thanks for the coffee,” he says and makes for the door.

“Bye,” is all Thranduil can think to say.

 

*

 

That was so weird, wasn’t it? Why did he introduce himself?

Maybe it’s not that weird.

Well, yeah, the whole thing definitely felt weird. But it doesn’t really matter. He just won’t go back there and then that’s that. So embarrassing, though. Who tips two pounds for a cappuccino? At least he panicked before he could humiliate himself even more than he did. And at least the rain has stopped, even if it’s just for a while.


	2. americano

“Do you wanna go down to Brighton this weekend?”

“I can't go to Brighton. I have work.”

“Work?”

“Yes, work.”

“Well, can't you take one weekend off?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes, _really._ ”

“It's your coffee shop. Doesn't that come with some sort of authority?”

Thranduil turns to look at Haldir.

“Well, who's gonna run it while I'm gone?”

“I don't know. No one?”

Thranduil doesn't answer, just goes back to piling bags of coffee beans on the shelf behind the counter.

“Really?”

Still doesn't answer. Haldir sighs.

“Just drop it,” Thranduil says to the row of coffee bags.

 

*

 

GREEN BEANS 

The note sits on the board. Bard looks at it, just like every day the past week. Such a strange place. Like it had been pressed into and forced to fit inside something too small. Books and ornaments everywhere. Old tea cups and figures made of glass, porcelain, wood, stone. Here and there a peek at a green and gold wallpaper. He finds it odd how much he thinks about it. The owner and his... friend, boyfriend, colleague? Anyway, they had the same long, blond hair, except the owner, Thranduil, he wore it up in a bun. They couldn't have been brothers, they didn't look anything alike. Maybe one of them's adopted. Or both.

This is ridiculous, Bard thinks. Looks outside at the blue sky, decides he won't be needing his jacket during his lunch break, even though it's only April.

 

*

 

“Hey, did you bring my book?” 

“What?”

Thranduil looks at him, eyebrows raised. “My book.”

“What book?” 

“ _My book,_ I told you to bring it.”

Haldir looks around himself. “You're surrounded by books, pick another one.”

“What? No!”

“You didn't tell me to bring it!”

“Uh, I'm pretty sure that I fucking did.”

Haldir looks at him in mild disbelief. “What is your problem?”

“Nothing, you _never_ forget _anything_ I tell you, so...” Thranduil mumbles, picking up a dishcloth and starting on the counter top between them.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?” Thranduil looks up at him, feigning ignorance.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing, I'm sure.”

“Oh my god. This is so typical. You didn't even ask me!”

Thranduil glares at him. “Didn't I? Really?”

Haldir sighs the same way he always does.

“Look, what's this about? Can you just, for once, just fucking tell me?”

“And _what_ is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You know what that's 'supposed to mean', don't be so-”

“Don't know why should I bother to tell you anything when you don't _ever_ -”

“Oh, wow, yeah, like you talk to me about anything, at all, ever, I-”

“Maybe I talk all the fucking time when you're _not listening!_ I'm so-”

The little bell above the door cuts him off and makes both of them turn their heads. The beautiful man whose name is Bard and who hasn't been in since that time last week is standing in the doorway, seemingly painfully aware of the tension he's walked into.

“Well, hello, welcome back!” Thranduil greets him with far more mirth than necessary and grins happily at the provoking effect it has on Haldir. “How are you today?”

“I'm... good, thanks,” Bard answers, confused, surely.

“Wonderful! Oh, let me introduce you to...” He gestures towards Haldir (who is smiling now, with great effort). “This is Haldir, my boyfriend. And _this_ is Bard. Bard...?”

“Bowman, Bard Bowman.”

They shake hands during a very uncomfortable silence. Thranduil takes Bard's order and Haldir goes back to his poisonous glare. Thranduil smiles extra wide at him as he passes him on his way over to Bard's table (the one by the window).

“Americano for the gentleman.”

“Thank you very much.”

Thranduil smiles. Haldir's silent presence burns into his back. Bard quickly swallows the two complementary biscuits before he sips on his coffee, Thranduil notices as he takes a table-wiping lap around the shop. Haldir glares at him again when he walks past him.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” Thranduil asks him through gritted teeth.

“Why, so you can flirt with Mr. Gorgeous over there?”

“Oh my- Would you shut the fuck up?”

“Oh! So I'm right, then?"

“Sounds like _you've_ got a fucking crush on him – Mr. Gorgeous, are you kidding me?”

“You know what?” Haldir gives him a caustic smile. “I _am_ gonna go. And I'm _not_ gonna call you later.”

“Oh, no, that's terrible,” Thranduil mutters with poorly hidden sarcasm. Actually sighs with relief when Haldir closes the door behind him. Before he realises he should probably be embarrassed and looks up at Bard, sun pouring in on him through the window, his eyes on Thranduil.

“I- I'm sorry, I wasn't...” Bard starts, gesturing vaguely.

“Please, _I'm_ sorry, that was… Well, very unprofessional, for one thing.”

He just looks at Bard then, who looks back at him, words hanging just behind his teeth. Then he laughs, and Thranduil laughs. Just for a second.

“I'm sorry,” Bard says again. “It's not funny.”

“No, but it is, really,” Thranduil muses. “Would you like another coffee? On the house.”

“Oh, uh, yes, I would love one. Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

The dusty coffee shop air is warm as Thranduil fills two cups with espresso and hot water and brings one of them over to the man in the sun.

“Not flirting,” he says.

“Good,” says Bard. “Me neither.”

 

*

 

Bard shivers in the weak April sun. He runs the second half of the way to his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to thank ao3 user [star_named_andy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy) for making me consider thranduil and haldir as a couple in this story (which i actually hadn't before) because i'm loving how this turned out sdkfjsd


End file.
